


The Ghosts of Gallifrey

by Lindenharp



Series: Changes!verse [8]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-21
Updated: 2010-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-06 13:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindenharp/pseuds/Lindenharp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is the Doctor being haunted by the dead of Gallifrey?  Or is he just going mad?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of my Changes!verse series, in which the Ninth Doctor, Rose Tyler, and (mortal) Jack Harkness are traveling together as lovers and partners. It is rated Teen for non-explicit sexual content.

For the last twenty-three days, Gallifrey has been visiting him in his dreams.

He hasn't told Rose and Jack. Doesn't intend to. They'd have questions. They'd want details. And they'd correct him. They'd say, "You mean you've been going to Gallifrey in your dreams." He doesn't mean that, not at all. Gallifrey is dust and ashes, and the whole of the War is time-locked. Even in dreams it is forever barred to him. Instead, the dead of Gallifrey seek him out, sometimes in twos and threes, sometimes in multitudes. Time Lords and Ladies, High Councillors and renegades -- all gaze at him silently, then turn and walk through the TARDIS door, vanishing into the Vortex.

Some of the dream visitors have a word hovering on their lips, like a drop of rain trembling on the edge of a flower petal. Each time he waits, but they remain mute. He can almost see the shape of the word. Sometimes it looks like _help_; sometimes _coward_ or _murderer_; sometimes, _why_. Mostly he suspects that the word is _where_. _Where am I? Where am I going?_ Time Lords didn't believe in ghosts. Ten million years of science and civilisation on Gallifrey had replaced primitive superstitions about an afterlife with the technological certainty of the Matrix. One's memories would live on -- if not one's consciousness -- in the most sophisticated artificial neural net ever created.

The Matrix was destroyed -- along with the rest of Gallifrey -- in a firestorm several billion kilometres across. Millions of years of knowledge lost; the recorded memories of thousands of Time Lords wiped out in the same nanosecond as all of their living descendants. _'Cept me. I wish--_ As often as it comes into his head, he never finishes that sentence. Maybe it's because he's not sure which of the many possible endings he'd choose.

_I wish..._   
_...someone else had pushed the button._   
_...I'd died with the others._   
_...I'd died earlier in the War, so as not to know how it ended._   
_...I had the courage to destroy Davros and his infant monsters back on Skaro._

Or maybe it's because he's afraid to find out how he'd finish the sentence.

He's had bad dreams before. Could hardly be otherwise, considering the things he saw in the War, the things he did. For months afterwards, he hardly slept, not even the minimal amount that Time Lord physiology requires. Those nightmares -- filled with fire and ash and screams -- still visit him occasionally, but not as often. It helps that he no longer sleeps alone. Warm human bodies pressed against him are soothing. It's a primitive response to need touch -- not that he _needs_ it. _'Course not. It's... pleasant to touch an' be touched. That's a far cry from needin' it._

These recent dreams are very different to the others. They seem real. Impossibly real. Every other Time Lord is gone, and who should know that better than the one who murdered them? Still, no reason to mention them to his partners. Rose would want him to talk. Jack would hold his tongue, but his clever mind would be working overtime; observing, analysing, speculating. So he says nothing. And though it isn't agreeable to have dead Time Lords wandering through his sleeping mind, he's endured much worse. He does his best not to think about them, and mostly he succeeds.

Until they become impossible to ignore.

*****

"Something's wrong with the Doctor," Rose says, the instant she steps into the workroom.

She hasn't been running, and she doesn't sound panicked, so Jack finishes easing the new induction coil into its slot before turning to face her. Her expression is as somber as he's ever seen it. He raises his eyebrows, inviting her to continue.

"We were in the console room, and I asked him about those flori-thingies on Verdana. He was explaining, but all of a sudden he stopped talking, and turned around and stared at... nothing."

Jack shrugs. "So he got distracted. It happens." He lowers the pitch of his voice and adopts a vaguely northern accent. "Time Lord, me. Lots goin' on up here, y'know." He taps the side of his head with one finger. He doesn't get the laugh he expects, or even a smile.

"'S not funny, Jack. It was like he was watching something that wasn't there. Something that was moving, 'cos his head turned and his eyes were following it around the room to the front door. Then he stared so hard I half expected to see the door open."

With a lightness he doesn't feel, Jack says, "Not likely, since we're in the Vortex. Did you ask him about it?"

"Didn't get a chance. He mumbled something about needing a tool from storage, and went off to find it."

Jack says slowly, "Could be that he saw something you didn't, Rose. Time Lords have more senses than we do, physical and psychic. Maybe there was some kind of time fluctuation." It's not likely, not while the TARDIS is in the Vortex, but it's possible. Almost anything is possible where the Doctor is concerned.

"I s'pose," Rose concedes, "but whatever it was, it worried him." She combs her fingers through her hair, frowning.

"Do you want me to talk to him?"

She sighs. "And say what? 'Rose wants t'know what you were looking at'? 'Sides, the Doctor's very good at not talking when he doesn't want to."

"Or talking without saying anything." The Doctor is their friend and lover, but there are some things he doesn't share with his human partners. "Let's just keep an eye on him. Whatever it was, maybe it was a one-time thing."

*****

Rassilon! One moment he's telling Rose about the physiology of Florambulons, and the next he's looking at a Time Lord in formal Prydonian robes, headdress and all. His first thought is that Jack found the robes in the wardrobe and is playing a prank; that would explain why Rose is pretending not to see him. Only... this 'Prydonian' is a short, stocky bloke with dark eyes. _Can't be Jack_... He watches intently as the robed figure walks down the ramp to the door, then passes through it as though it is as insubstantial as air.

He turns to find Rose looking at him, puzzlement creasing her forehead. He can see the question forming on her lips, and he needs to get away before she can ask it. A tool he'll be wanting later on makes a convenient excuse to disappear. He strides out of the console room and hurries towards storeroom three. The sense of relief he feels doesn't last for long. Rose is curious, maybe even worried. _She's not gonna drop it_.

As he passes the library, he spots someone at the far end of the corridor, walking rapidly away from him. Even at this distance, he can see that it's a slender, dark-haired young woman in student robes of Arcalian green. She turns left onto a cross-corridor.

[ ](http://s79.photobucket.com/albums/j153/Brighidnichiarain/?action=view&current=arcalian.jpg)

"Stop! Who are you?" The Gallifreyan words feel clumsy on his tongue. Except for the occasional muttered curse, he hasn't spoken his native language since the War. The woman pauses mid-step, looking over her shoulder at him. Her features are delicate and lovely and inexpressibly sad. Her lips part slightly, but she remains silent. And then she turns the corner out of sight.

"No!" he shouts, breaking into a run. He arrives at the intersection two seconds later and skids to a halt. The connecting corridor is empty. He stands there motionless for one minute and forty-two seconds, then walks slowly to the medbay.

He tests everything that he can think of -- twice. He screens his blood for pathogens and drugs that might cause hallucinations, does a neuro-scan of the optical centre of his brain, and checks hormone levels. Everything normal. To be thorough, he searches for environmental factors: radiation, air-borne contaminants, faulty temporal shielding. Nothing.

A psychic attack, maybe? _It would take enormous power to project through the TARDIS shields, 'specially in the Vortex. Not many beings in the Universe capable of that, an' none that could do it without the TARDIS noticin'._ That leaves only two possible explanations -- and he doesn't believe in ghosts.

_I'm goin' mad_.

****

She's scared now, because whatever is going on with the Doctor is getting worse. There's been two more 'episodes' that they know about. At breakfast, she sees him glowering at Jack -- no, at a point two feet behind Jack. He mutters something the TARDIS won't translate, and pushes his chair back so abruptly that his untouched mug of tea sloshes over. She wants to say something, but one look at his face silences her. As soon as the sound of his boots fades down the hallway, she turns towards Jack.

He glances up from his wristcomp. "Nothing. Well, nothing my instruments can detect," he amends.

She nods. Jack's wristcomp is Time Agency issue, which means it's very advanced technology -- by human standards. Time Lord technology, as they've been told a million times, is far superior. _Fat lot of good that does u_s. _'S not as though we can ask the Doctor for help_. Not when he's the reason they need the tech.

Jack pulls Rose into his arms for a long hug, and places a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "Don't worry. Whatever it is, we'll sort it."

*****

After supper, the Time Lord says something vague about working on the dimensional stabiliser, and tells his partners not to wait up.

"You want some help, Doctor?"

"Nah, no need," the Doctor says with a casualness Jack doesn't fully trust. "You two get some shut-eye."

Jack and Rose curl up in the huge bed that the TARDIS installed in the Doctor's room when they first became a threesome. The antique four-poster feels much too big with only the two of them in it. Granted, the Doctor rarely sleeps, and they don't have sex every night, but he usually slips into bed for some cuddling before his human partners fall asleep.

Rose is lying on her side, her back to him. Jack puts his hand on her shoulder. She stiffens. "Not now, Jack. Sorry. I... I can't."

He wouldn't want it advertised, but he's not much in the mood either. "I know, Rose. I just want to hold you."

Rose rolls over, burying her face in Jack's chest. "'M sorry," she mumbles.

He strokes the back of her head. "I'm worried about him, too."

*****

Jack awakens in the middle of the night from a disquieting dream that he can't quite remember. When he retrieves his wristcomp from the night-stand, it tells him that it's four in the morning, ship's time. He's too wound up to go back to sleep. May as well get up and do something. He dresses swiftly and quietly in the dark, careful not to disturb Rose, then makes his way to the console room.

The Doctor is bent over a monitor screen, frowning at a screenful of gibberish that Jack now knows is Gallifreyan.

"Problem?" Jack asks.

The Doctor jerks upright. "Nah. Jus' reading up on some technical details."

"Doctor, if you need help with anything..." He can see from the Doctor's expression that the Time Lord knows he isn't talking about TARDIS repairs.

"No, I don't," the Doctor snaps. "Least, nothin' a human can do." In a softer tone he adds, "Go back to bed, Jack."

Jack leans back against a coral strut and folds his arms across his chest. "I'm not feeling particularly sleepy, Doctor."

"Then do somethin' else, Captain, but do it somewhere else. I bloody well don't need you hoverin' when I'm tryin' to concentrate."

It's a blunt dismissal, much harsher than the Doctor's usual grumpiness. Jack is almost tempted to respond with a salute. _Sir! Yes, sir!_ But that would just make matters worse, and arguing is clearly a lost cause. Without another word he turns, heading for the gym. An hour or two punching and kicking the hell out of a stuffed leather bag is just what he needs right now.

*****

When Rose stumbles out of bed, Jack is gone. No surprise there. She loves the bloke, really she does, but he's -- ugh! -- a morning person.

Breakfast is a bit tense at first. The clatter of mugs and the crunch of toast are the loudest noises in the kitchen. Conversation creeps in slowly.

"Captain, pass the grindleberry jam. Ta."

"Rose, did I ever tell you about the time I visited the grindleberry festival on Laira IV? The Grindleberry Princess asked me to be her consort. What she _didn't_ tell me is that the role required a ceremonial anointing--"

"They didn't!"

"They did."

"I can believe it. Sticky situations are your speciality, Captain."

"Doctor, where we going today?"

"I was thinkin' of the Forest of K'lil, on Trewaq."

"Trewaq -- haven't been there in _ages_. Rose, you're going to love it."

She's certain she will. She'd enjoy visiting a rubbish tip in Slough, just as long as the Doctor is feeling better. And he must be, teasing Jack like that.

*****

It's gettin' worse. The funny thing is that Jack and Rose think he's getting better. He doesn't jump or stare any more when he sees one of these 'ghosts', because he sees them constantly. Whenever, wherever he is, at least one of the bloody things is present. If this was a time echo, he could mostly ignore them. If this was a time echo, they'd ignore him -- they'd be unaware of him. Instead, they watch him, follow him all the bloody time and if this keeps up for much longer he's gonna scream.

Today Rose almost got hurt because of him. He didn't warn her not to smell the lovely but poisonous amohat flowers. Why? Because he was too distracted by the sight of Gold Usher leading a ceremonial procession through the forest and -- literally -- through the trees. Luckily, Jack recognised the amohat and grabbed Rose's wrist in time to pull her back to safety. That was a near thing.

And what will be the next step down into madness? _They gonna start talkin' to me? Tellin' me to do stuff? _A human experiencing a severe psychotic break might become violent and attack a friend -- or gun down a roomful of strangers. He doesn't need to ask himself what a psychotic Time Lord might be capable of. _I wiped out two of the most powerful races in the Universe, an' I was sane then. Mostly._

With a shudder, he remembers his sixth incarnation. In a moment of regeneration-induced paranoia, he had attacked his companion. _Tried to choke the life out of Peri, 'cos I thought she was an alien spy. If I hadn't come to my senses when I did-- _

[ ](http://s79.photobucket.com/albums/j153/Brighidnichiarain/?action=view&current=choke.jpg)

For a moment, the image in his mind wavers, and the terrified young woman is blonde, not brunette. _No! I won't let that happen!_ For starters, he's got to get Rose and Jack off the TARDIS to a safe place, and the sooner the better. He can't do what he needs to do while they're still on board.

*****

"Visit my mum?" Rose echoes. "You're offering to visit my mum?"

He shakes his head. "I'm offerin' to take you an' Jack to visit your mum. Got some work to do in the TARDIS, an' I've got to disconnect some o' the temporal shieldin' to do it."

She looks at Jack. "Definitely not safe for humans to be around," he confirms. "The results of exposure could be anything from a dizzy spell to a serious case of dead."

"But it's safe for the Doctor?"

The Doctor gives a loud snort. "Time Lord, me. I can survive exposure to raw Vortex. Think I can manage a bit of unshielded maintenance in the TARDIS." He smiles at her. "I'll come get you two when it's safe." _It's not really a lie. I will -- if I can._

"All right," she says slowly. "'S long as you come into the flat afterwards for a proper visit. And that means staying for tea."

He pulls a face, but nods. If this works, he'll not only sit down to tea with Jackie Tyler, he'll compliment her cooking, and offer to help with the washing up. _Assumin' that Rose even lets me in. She won't be half angry with me... an' confused an' maybe scared. Should have told her before this. Jack will deal better._ If it doesn't work, if it all goes pear-shaped, Rose will be best off here, on her own planet, with her mother and Jack to comfort her.

They land in the Powell Estate with a minimum of turbulence. He watches the two humans from the doorway of the TARDIS. He'd resisted the temptation to give them proper snogs before sending them off. That sort of sentimentality would be out of character, and might make his partners suspicious. As soon as they're safely out of sight, he heads towards the nearby Tesco, to purchase the final item he needs to set his plan into motion.

*****

The visit's going pretty well. In between bites of Jaffa cake, Rose is chattering away about their trip to the bazaars of Alpha Regulus III. He judges that Jackie is only half-listening. Mostly she's just enjoying her daughter's presence. Another part of her is busy smiling at him, refilling his teacup, and offering him more not-quite-stale digestive biscuits.

Jackie Tyler can not resist flirting with an attractive man. It's a tropism, Jack decides, like a flower turning towards the sun. Not that he minds in the least -- by the standards of his century, her coy attentions are hardly more than polite small talk. Still, his relationship with Rose has made him very aware of twenty-first century socio-sexual mores, and he's careful how he responds to her mother.

He's pretending to sip a third cup of tea when he starts to feel restless. _I ought to go back to the TARDIS_, he thinks, though he doesn't know why. Nothing's wrong here. He's reasonably content sitting in Jackie Tyler's flat. And Rose is happy to be here. Or is she? _No, she feels it too... whatever _it _is._ Rose is fidgeting and glancing towards the door.

"Rose, I'm going into the TARDIS to check on something. Back in a few minutes, okay?" He gestures with one of the discreet Time Agency hand-signals he's taught her: _stay here._ Even as his hand is still moving, he can tell that it's no use.

"'M coming with you, Jack."

Jackie springs to her feet, looking from one to the other with dismay. "Not so soon! Rose, sweetheart, what's your hurry? 'Sides, I thought you couldn't go back in until Himself finishes his tinkering."

"He won't have started yet," Jack lies smoothly.

"We're not gonna leave yet, Mum," Rose adds. "Promise. Jus' got to... umm... check on something."

They leave Jackie uncharacteristically speechless as they hurry out the door of the flat.

Rose halts at the bottom of the stairs. "What's going on, Jack?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know. Feels like some kind of psychic pull."

"The Doctor?"

He lifts his hands in the universal gesture of uncertainty. "I wouldn't have thought so. He's a touch telepath -- with humans, anyhow." Jack has only a trace of psi sensitivity, and Rose has none. Still, he isn't fool enough to make assumptions about what the Time Lord can or can not do.

They return to the TARDIS at a trot. Rose has her key ready, but she freezes with her hand halfway to the lock. "Is it safe to go in?"

Jack can't detect anything through the outer shielding, but it ought to be okay to open the door slightly. He studies the reading on his wristcomp. Normal, for the moment. He'd like to leave Rose outside, but he knows she'll refuse. He sticks his head in the door. "Doctor?"

Rose follows him inside. The console room is empty. "Maybe he went to get some tools?" she suggests.

Jack starts to shrug, but feels that vague pull again. "This way."

Through the console room, left, second right, and then another left. There's no hesitating at any of the intersections: they just _know_ where to turn. The sense of urgency increases as they head deeper and deeper into the TARDIS.

"It feels very old in here," Rose whispers.

It hardly needs saying. The Doctor has had the TARDIS for centuries, and he was not the first to fly her. But Rose is right: this part of the ship feels even more ancient than the rest. The air smells faintly of cedar and cinnamon. The light has a golden tinge to it, and there is a sense of stillness mixed with anticipation that he has felt in very few places. The V'lau Ari temple. The Tomb of the Six. The Great Library of Destat. Stonehenge. "I think we're almost there." he whispers back.

They turn right into a short corridor. At the end is a door made of some pale wood, polished to a soft amber sheen. The main panel is deeply carved. The border pattern is made of rounded glyphs that intertwine with one another, and in the centre is the figure-eight motif that Jack has seen elsewhere in the TARDIS.

[ ](http://s79.photobucket.com/albums/j153/Brighidnichiarain/?action=view&current=door.jpg)

Rose places her hand on the brass door-knob. "Are we allowed in here? I think this is a... a private place."

"We're supposed to be here," Jack says with a certainty he can't explain.

Rose turns the knob and pushes, and the heavy door swings open.


	2. Chapter 2

The room is small, and plain to the point of severity. The roundels set into the white walls gleam with their own light. As they walk in, she discovers that the floor is made of some soft, resilient material that absorbs the sound of their footsteps. The same material covers the walls and the inside of the door.

The only furniture in the room is an antique writing desk in black lacquer and a matching straight-backed chair. Sitting at the desk is the room's only source of colour: the Doctor, in a long, simple robe of scarlet and orange.

[](http://s79.photobucket.com/albums/j153/Brighidnichiarain/?action=view&current=doctor_in_chair.jpg)   


On the desk before him are two containers, both open. One is a bottle of Teraillian dew-wine. The other is a small plastic vial of pills. Half of its contents are spread across the desk, and the white disks seem to glow against the black lacquer surface. The Doctor has arranged them into patterns. Rose smiles. She used to do the same thing with Smarties when she was a little girl. The smile vanishes as she realises what she's seeing.

"Doctor! No!" She rushes over, and sweeps one arm over the surface of the desk, sending everything flying. "Why? How could you do this?" she shouts, and bursts into tears.

Jack's beside her in an instant, ready to offer comfort, but not sure why it's needed. "Rose? What's wrong?"

"Huh?" The question makes her focus. _Right. Fifty-first century bloke. Prob'bly doesn't even recognise the stuff_. She points an accusing finger at the one white pill remaining on the desk. "That's aspirin. 'S for little aches and pains."

"Like paracetamol?" That one he knows, because he sometimes brings it to her when she has cramps.

"Yeah. Only we don't keep aspirin on the TARDIS, 'cos it's poisonous to Time Lords!" The last four words emerge as a shout.

_Click._ Jack has flicked the 'soldier switch'. That's what she calls it, that moment when the other, serious part of him takes over. He bends over the Time Lord. "Doctor. Did you take any of those?"

The Doctor's face is expressionless. "No. Was jus' gettin' ready when you came in."

Jack repeats Rose's question. "Why?"

The Doctor studies the ceiling. "'S complicated. You two weren't s'posed to be here yet. Not until... after."

She feels another surge of fury. "So the plan was for Jack and me to come in and find your body?" She looks down at the desk, bare of any writing materials. "Were you even gonna leave a _note_?"

He won't meet her eyes. "I was gonna explain it all to you afterwards."

"After you... died?" Now she's too confused to feel angry.

"After I regenerated."

****

In the Time Agency, there had been a lot of stories about the mythical Time Lord race. He remembers a tale that said that they could rejuvenate their bodies whenever they began to age, and consequently lived almost forever. Another story claimed that they were shape-shifters, able to change from one humanoid form to another.

The truth is much more interesting and convoluted. Jack listens, open-mouthed, to an explanation of total cellular renewal. Thirteen lifetimes, and each one with the potential to last centuries. At nine hundred, the Doctor really isn't very old by his people's standards. Jack has a million questions, but now is not the time for most of them.

"So, you look different every time? Can you chose your appearance?"

The answer, apparently, is yes... and no. Some Time Lords had the ability to control the regeneration process. In cases of sudden or violent death, control was usually impossible, and the newly-regenerated Time Lord might be ill or unconscious for hours, even days.

"I've never had a controlled regeneration. Never had the chance to try," the Doctor says, still looking at the floor. "Thought maybe if I followed all the old rituals, I could control it enough to look mostly the same. Didn't have any Elixir of Acheron, but aspirin is a slow poison, so..."

"So now we know what you were doing," Rose says, "But you haven't told us why." Her fury has blown over, but she's still angry, scared, and hurt. So is he. He's just better at hiding his feelings.

The Doctor is sitting stiffly in his chair, his face expressionless. It's odd to see him wearing something other than his uniform of jeans, jumper, and leather coat. In the simple robe that falls almost to his bare feet, he looks more vulnerable than he does when they are naked together.

Jack lets himself drop to the padded floor and sits cross-legged in front of the Doctor. It's a submissive, non-threatening posture, and the Doctor has spent enough time on Earth to react instinctively to human body language. Jack looks at Rose, who is leaning against the edge of the desk, and pats the floor as an invitation. She hesitates, then settles herself beside him, drawing her legs up and hugging her knees.

He looks up at the Doctor. "I'm guessing that this isn't because you got tired of the ears." Rose lets out a half-hearted snort. A little of the tension goes out of the Doctor's shoulders, but he doesn't speak.

Jack remembers a conversation they had with the Doctor on Haven. The end of the Time War -- and his previous incarnation -- was only two or three years ago. _Much too soon to need to regenerate again_._ Unless_... "Are you ill?" he asks quietly.

That draws a response, though not the one he hoped for. The Doctor lets out a short, harsh laugh. "Leave me be, Jack. Jus' leave me be."

Rose shakes her head. "Doctor, we're worried about you. We can't pretend something isn't wrong. We want to help."

For the first time since they entered the room, the Doctor looks directly at his human partners. "Rose, Jack -- the best way you can help is to go back to the flat an' let me do what I came here to do."

"No," Rose says flatly. "Not until you explain."

Jack drapes his left arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer. "Neither of us is going anywhere, Doctor. Whatever you do, we're staying."

"Humans!" the Doctor hisses. "Stubbornest race in twelve galaxies."

"Guilty as charged," Jack says mildly.

"'S one of the things you like best about us," Rose adds.

*****

If he wasn't already going mad, these two would probably drive him to it. _Humans!_ _Never more stubborn than when they're blatherin' on about things they don't understand._ _Right. Time to set some things straight_. "You can't be here when I regenerate. It's too dangerous. I might be unstable."

"You wouldn't hurt us," Rose says with the confidence of youth.

"I can't be sure of that, an' I'm not goin' to take the chance."

"Who's going to make sure that you don't get hurt?" Jack wants to know.

He sighs. "'S why I'm in here. Not quite a Zero Room, but the closest I can manage right now. The TARDIS will lock the door until I recover. You shouldn't have been able to get in. Someone--" He glares up at the featureless ceiling. "--has been meddling."

"Good girl!" Rose pats the floor.

"Maybe we don't know what you need," Jack says, "but the TARDIS does."

"And she knows what you don't need," Rose says with a note of triumph.

He glances around. The floor is completely empty. None of the items that Rose knocked off the desk is anywhere in sight. Biting back a curse, he rises from the chair and begins to pace. The humans watch him, but don't move from where they're sitting. He walks to the door, spins on his heel, and glares again. The desk and chair are gone. _Very subtle._ He leans heavily against the wall furthest from Jack and Rose, then slides down into a sitting position.

Rose gets up and sits beside him, not touching, but close enough that he can feel her body heat. "Doctor, trust us. Please."

"I trust you," he says, and his gaze includes Jack in the statement. "It's myself I don't trust."

Jack comes over and sits on his other side. "Then let us help you. At least tell us what's wrong."

Maybe he should tell them. _Maybe it'll scare some sense into them_. "I've been seein' things -- people -- that can't be real. Dead people."

Rose makes the connection first. "People from your world?"

He nods, not trusting his voice.

"How often do you see them?" Jack wants to know.

"All the time, now." He glances sourly at the High Councillors standing at the far end of the room, resplendent in their formal robes. "They don't say or do anythin', they just stare at me."

"Time echo? Psi attack?" Jack asks.

"Gas creatures, maybe, like the Gelth?"

Their eagerness to help makes him feel frustrated and guilty at the same time. "None of those." To forestall any more useless suggestions, he lists all of the possibilities he's considered and discarded.

"Doctor..." Rose's voice is soft and hesitant. "Is it possible that these are, y'know, messages? That some of your people survived?"

"Nah. Told you, I'd feel it here." He taps the back of his head. "It wouldn't be like this -- seeing them. I can't explain it any better. Sorry."

"Were all Time Lords telepaths?" Jack wants to know.

"Yeah. Some more'n others." For him, it has varied from regeneration to regeneration. Susan was extraordinarily sensitive, though the only training she got was what he could provide. Her beloved face comes to the forefront of his memory, and he has to push it back to keep control.

"So... there was some kind of a racial telepathic connection, awareness of the others, but not a group consciousness?" Seeing him nod, Jack continues, "And that was cut off when--"

"When Gallifrey was destroyed, yeah."_ When _I_ destroyed Gallifrey an' killed every other Time Lord._

"Oh, God. Doctor, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have--"

"You only spoke the truth. No need to apologise."

Rose is scrunching up her face, gazing blindly into the middle distance. "This is prob'ly a load of rubbish, but I was thinking..."

He gestures for her to continue.

"Mickey has this mate, Nigel, who was in the army. He got sent to Kosovo, and the poor bugger stepped on a landmine. He lived, but he lost one of his legs. Nigel told Mickey when he was in hospital, he could feel that leg hurting, even though it was gone. Sometimes it itched, and it drove him bonkers 'cos he couldn't scratch it."

"Phantom limb syndrome," Jack chimes in. "But that usually starts soon after the trauma, and it gets better over time, not worse."

Rose flushes. "Said it was a rubbish idea," she mumbles.

He stares at her, this human from a primitive world, not even a tenth of his age. "Rose Tyler. You--"

She holds up a hand. "Yeah, I know. I'm a stupid ape."

He grins. "You are a very clever ape. A _brilliant_ ape."

"But-- what Jack said--"

Jack shrugs. "I didn't say you were wrong, just that the parallels weren't exact. We're talking about the somatosensory cortex in humans versus whatever part of the Time Lord brain handles telepathic input. Apples and oranges. No reason they should act the same.." He pauses. "Doctor, you have a telepathic connection with the TARDIS. Could that be why these... manifestations haven't shown up before this?"

"Two brilliant apes!" he exults. Then, just as abruptly as it came, his glee vanishes. Nothing's really changed. He's still going mad. Only difference is, now he knows why.

*****

The Doctor's grin is so wide, it looks like his face might split in two. And then -- bang! -- he's wearing that mask that means he's really upset and doesn't want to show it.

"Doctor?" she asks, "what's wrong?" She can see the moment in which he swallows the comforting lie he was about to tell them.

"There's nothin' I can do about it," he says quietly.

"Can't you just do whatever you do with the TARDIS, only more often?"

"It's not the same." She can see him trying to pick the words that will make sense to her. "You know the TARDIS is alive, yeah?"

She bobs her head.

"Sentient and self-aware," Jack says.

"Right. The TARDIS was bred to be compatible with a Time Lord mind, an' she is, for the usual purposes, but she's got a very different kind of sentience from me or you. The connection I've got with her is nothin' like the one I had with my people. I'm surprised she's kept me goin' as long as she did." He strokes the wall behind him gently. "She's a clever old girl."

Jack isn't about to accept defeat, any more than Rose is. "Can't you reconfigure her telepathic circuits or something?"

"No!" the Doctor says, glaring at Jack as though he'd suggested vivisecting a kitten. "An' I told you, her mind's too different."

Rose looks at Jack. A silent message passes between them with no telepathy involved. "Doctor, what about _our_ minds?"

The Doctor looks at them both. The mask is back, and if she were a telepath, she could probably hear the _click_ of a door locking his thoughts in.

"Can you connect with us? I mean, I know you _can_, but would it help?"

"It can't hurt to try," Jack offers.

Silence. The Doctor must be trying to figure out a kind way to refuse, to tell them they can't help, because human minds are too small and limited. "Doctor?"

"Thing is, there wouldn't be any privacy," the Doctor begins.

_And he's the most private person I've ever met. Lots of things he doesn't like to talk about; bet it would be a lot worse for him to have us seeing inside his head._ "I'm completely ignorant about this stuff," she says honestly, "but if there's some way you can teach me to stay out of places I don't belong--"

"No!" the Doctor says, cutting her off. Before she can decide whether she wants to apologise or blow up at him, he's pulling her and Jack into a hug. "I can block off thoughts of mine that might upset you -- I meant it wouldn't be very private for you two."

"I don't have anything to hide from you, Doctor." Yeah, there's stuff that would be embarrassing for him to see, but she won't risk the Doctor's life and sanity to spare herself a red face.

Jack taps his own forehead. "I guess you know what sorts of ugly crap I've got up here. If you think you can put up with it, then I want to help." He leans over and places a surprisingly gentle kiss on the Doctor's cheek.

_He's gonna need some pushing. Stubborn old git._ "Doctor, I know you're afraid this will hurt us or scare us. What would hurt the most is knowing we could help you, and not being allowed to do it."

"So, what's the first step?" Jack asks, as if it's all settled.

The Doctor mutters "Stubbornest race in twelve galaxies," and sighs again. Maybe Rose is a telepath after all, because she knows without being told that the sigh means _yes _and _thank youI love you._

Jack says, "I'm guessing we need physical contact."

"Yep," the Doctor confirms. "Skin to skin is best."

"I think we can manage that," Rose says, and peels off her shirt and jeans in record time.

Jack aims an exaggerated leer at the Doctor. "So tell me, what _do_ Time Lords wear under their robes?"

The Doctor raises his eyebrows. "If you're so curious, Captain, why don't you find out?"

*****

It has been a long time -- Oh, such a long time! -- since he has felt the delight of bodies and minds so closely intertwined that he can scarcely tell which ripple of pleasure comes from his own flesh, and which from his lovers'. The pleasure is all the greater because the humans have never experienced anything like this. Even for Jack, interstellar Casanova though he is, this is unfamiliar territory.

A fragment of memory drifts by: Jack wrapped in the six arms of a Rhodian, her telepathic projections enveloping him in a vivid fantasy that would have been the envy of holovid producers in four galaxies. _That was great, but this is-- oh god oh god ohgodohgod-- _Jack holds his breath, then exhales forcefully as Rose's orgasm reverberates through the pleasure center of his brain.

Rose is making soft breathy moans while her mindvoice is nearly shouting with desire and joy. One thought floats to the surface, tinged with mischief and just a little embarrassment. She hastily tugs it back down out of sight, but not before he catches a glimpse. _We can try that sometime, if you want_, he thinks at her, trying to sound unsurprised.

Jack, of course, can't keep his mouth shut, even when his mouth _is_ shut (or otherwise occupied). _Why, Rose Tyler, where did you get such a naughty idea?_

Rose reaches over and does something with her quick, clever hands that leaves Jack unable to speak coherently, telepathically or out loud.

_Thought you'd have learnt by now_ _not to aggravate her, Jack, _the Doctor teases. _Like good old Rudyard said, 'the female of the species is more deadly than the male'._

_I'll show you aggravation_, Rose promises, and she proceeds to demonstrate to both of them that the female of the species is frequently sneakier than the male.

*****

Rose mumbles something unintelligible into his chest.

"Huh?" he grunts at her, since they are disconnected, and need to use words again.

"How are you feeling?"

He takes in a long breath and releases it slowly. "Like I'm the only Time Lord in the room."

"'M glad. Guess this was just what the Doctor ordered?"

Jack lifts his head from its resting place on the Doctor's thigh. "Repeat dosage as needed."

"Dunno how often that will be," he replies.

"We'll have to experiment," Rose suggests. "I don't mind donating my body to science."

"Minx." One of his hands drifts upward to explore the soft roundness of her breasts. The other strokes gently through Jack's hair. The younger man makes a contented sound and stretches slightly, arching his back. Idly, he amuses himself by imagining the research paper he could write for the _Galactic Journal of Psycho-Biology_: 'Grooming Responses in Post-Coital Humans'.

Rose rolls onto her back. "I need a shower," she says to the ceiling, "and as soon as my legs start working again, I'm gonna take one."

"Food first," Jack says. "I'm starving."

"No wonder," she replies. "You haven't had anything 'cept those biscuits--"

Then, as if they'd rehearsed it, the two humans sit bolt upright. "Oh, shit!' they chorus.

"Mum is going to murder me." Rose is on her feet, scrambling into her clothing. "She prob'ly thinks we've taken off."

"Rose, love, I think you'd better take that shower," Jack advises her, gathering up his own clothing. "Otherwise, your mother is going to know exactly what's kept you."

He looks up at them jumping about, his two clever, wonderful, foolish humans. Then he rolls his eyes and gives them Annoying Smile #8: You're-being-stupid-but-I-still-love-you. "By the way -- did I mention it also travels in time?"

*****

Jackie Tyler stands by her window, watching Jack and her daughter hurry down the street and disappear around the corner to the place where that blue box is parked. _If they go off without a by-your-leave and leave me with a shepherd's pie in the oven and no one to eat it, we're gonna have words next time._ Her heart sinks as she hears a familiar grinding whir, until she realises that it's not coming from the window. It's behind her.

She whirls around. The TARDIS is appearing out of thin air in the middle of her living room. Before she has a chance to wonder what it will do to her carpet, the door opens, and out pops Rose, followed by the Doctor and Jack. "But--"

"Sorry, Mum," Rose says in that too-cheerful voice she used when she was a child, and was trying to get away with something. "The repairs took longer than we expected, and we didn't want to be late, but we couldn't take the chance of crossing our own timelines--" She coughs, not quite covering a giggle.

"Rose Marion Tyler," she begins, but that Jack is coming forward and giving her a smile that could make any woman who isn't dead forget her own name.

"Mrs. Tyler-- Jackie," he corrects himself, "is that wonderful scent your shepherd's pie? I'm really looking forward to trying some."

"They don't have shepherd's pie where Jack comes from," Rose explains.

Right. She remembers Jack saying that he was human, but from another planet. _Must be a poor excuse for a planet if they don't have shepherd's pie. Maybe it was settled by Yanks, and they only eat cheeseburgers and chips._

With six extra helping hands, she gets tea on the table in record time. They all tuck into the food, even the high-and-mighty alien, and there isn't much left over to put in the fridge. Rose starts to clear the table, but the Doctor waves at her to sit down. "You relax," he says, and starts gathering up plates and cups. As if this wasn't strange enough, he turns to her and smiles. "That was delicious, Jackie. Let me help with the washing up."

She gawks at him. "I knew it! I knew this day would come. He's finally gone bonkers!" As if to prove her point, the crazy alien begins to guffaw. The other two join in, and she can only stand there, baffled, as the walls of her flat echo with the sound of their laughter.

**\--- The End --**


End file.
